The Baba Yaga
New
- Location
- Australia
So I do not know why but I felt like writing a short omake. I hope it is ok.
Nikola exhaled, watching his breath swirl into the cold air as he tightened his fur coat and pulled his cossack low against the biting winter wind. The chill was intense, even for him—and if he could feel it, then the muggle villagers down in the valley would be in serious trouble soon. Moving with purpose, Nikola trudged toward the familiar old cottage for the fourth time this season and knocked firmly on the door.
As with every visit before, the door creaked open, and a gravelly voice called out from a rocking chair near the fireplace. "Get in here! Close the door—you're letting the heat out!"
Nikola stepped inside, quickly shutting the door behind him, and took a seat in the nearest armchair. Across from him sat a hunched figure, cocooned in layers of blankets, knitting a thick winter scarf. She didn't glance up, her needles clicking away.
"How are you, Baba?" Nikola ventured politely.
The old woman raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Bah! Don't bother with pleasantries, child. You're not here to chitchat. Make your request or be off with you. It's all the same to me."
Nikola sighed, deciding not to push his luck. "Very well, Baba. The Ministry insists that you move away from the muggle village."
At once, she stopped knitting and straightened up, her eyes darkening. The firelight dimmed, shifting to an eerie green glow as she seemed to tower over him, though she hadn't moved an inch. She glared down her elongated nose, voice sharp as frost. "No."
Nikola kept his composure, his gaze steady on the now very large and clearly displeased woman. "No?" he asked calmly. "May I ask why?"
"They were rude. And rude people need to be taught a lesson," she said in a tone that seemed to shake the cottage walls.
Nikola resisted the urge to sigh again. "Alright, Baba. What did the muggles do to offend you this time?" He had a good guess—it was the same issue each time he'd come to see her.
The old woman narrowed her eyes, her gaze piercing. "They refused to let me give their children sweets."
Nikola's face remained blank, though he nodded thoughtfully. "I see. Yes, that was indeed very rude. But you know how muggles can be. They don't understand proper etiquette."
He paused, appearing to mull over an idea. Then he offered the same suggestion he'd made on his last few visits. "How about a deal, then? I'll make sure all the children in the village receive one of your sweets, and the adults will apologize for their behavior. In return, you move your hut back up into the mountains."
The old woman considered this, her gaze thoughtful, before reaching into a wicker basket beside her chair. Slowly, she pulled out a small blue bag tied with a simple red ribbon, the aroma of sugar, cinnamon, and spice wafting through the room.
"You promise all the children will get a sweet?" she asked in a soft, almost wistful tone.
"I promise, Baba."
With a toothless grin, she patted his cheek with a bony hand. "Such a good boy. Now hurry up—you have work to do."
Nikola stood, clutching the little blue bag, and made for the door. He gave her a nod of gratitude before bracing himself against the cold once more.
He'd walked about a hundred meters when he felt the familiar rumbling beneath his feet. Turning, he saw the cottage lift up on thin, knobby chicken legs and lumber off, deeper into the mountains.
With a sigh, Nikola continued toward the village to keep his word. He knew better than to break a promise to his Baba.
Dealing with your Baba
Nikola exhaled, watching his breath swirl into the cold air as he tightened his fur coat and pulled his cossack low against the biting winter wind. The chill was intense, even for him—and if he could feel it, then the muggle villagers down in the valley would be in serious trouble soon. Moving with purpose, Nikola trudged toward the familiar old cottage for the fourth time this season and knocked firmly on the door.
As with every visit before, the door creaked open, and a gravelly voice called out from a rocking chair near the fireplace. "Get in here! Close the door—you're letting the heat out!"
Nikola stepped inside, quickly shutting the door behind him, and took a seat in the nearest armchair. Across from him sat a hunched figure, cocooned in layers of blankets, knitting a thick winter scarf. She didn't glance up, her needles clicking away.
"How are you, Baba?" Nikola ventured politely.
The old woman raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Bah! Don't bother with pleasantries, child. You're not here to chitchat. Make your request or be off with you. It's all the same to me."
Nikola sighed, deciding not to push his luck. "Very well, Baba. The Ministry insists that you move away from the muggle village."
At once, she stopped knitting and straightened up, her eyes darkening. The firelight dimmed, shifting to an eerie green glow as she seemed to tower over him, though she hadn't moved an inch. She glared down her elongated nose, voice sharp as frost. "No."
Nikola kept his composure, his gaze steady on the now very large and clearly displeased woman. "No?" he asked calmly. "May I ask why?"
"They were rude. And rude people need to be taught a lesson," she said in a tone that seemed to shake the cottage walls.
Nikola resisted the urge to sigh again. "Alright, Baba. What did the muggles do to offend you this time?" He had a good guess—it was the same issue each time he'd come to see her.
The old woman narrowed her eyes, her gaze piercing. "They refused to let me give their children sweets."
Nikola's face remained blank, though he nodded thoughtfully. "I see. Yes, that was indeed very rude. But you know how muggles can be. They don't understand proper etiquette."
He paused, appearing to mull over an idea. Then he offered the same suggestion he'd made on his last few visits. "How about a deal, then? I'll make sure all the children in the village receive one of your sweets, and the adults will apologize for their behavior. In return, you move your hut back up into the mountains."
The old woman considered this, her gaze thoughtful, before reaching into a wicker basket beside her chair. Slowly, she pulled out a small blue bag tied with a simple red ribbon, the aroma of sugar, cinnamon, and spice wafting through the room.
"You promise all the children will get a sweet?" she asked in a soft, almost wistful tone.
"I promise, Baba."
With a toothless grin, she patted his cheek with a bony hand. "Such a good boy. Now hurry up—you have work to do."
Nikola stood, clutching the little blue bag, and made for the door. He gave her a nod of gratitude before bracing himself against the cold once more.
He'd walked about a hundred meters when he felt the familiar rumbling beneath his feet. Turning, he saw the cottage lift up on thin, knobby chicken legs and lumber off, deeper into the mountains.
With a sigh, Nikola continued toward the village to keep his word. He knew better than to break a promise to his Baba.
